


Children Of The Revolution

by orphan_account



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Swimming, attempted cuddling but JUST TOO FUCKING HOT, its really fucking hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 19:01:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17209136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sticky with sweat, Rami and Joe find a way to be together again.





	Children Of The Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> back with even more actor rpf -- usually not my forte, but i cant hold back from this pairing.  
> i publish with no intent to offend or "drag" these real life people. lol (but seriously)

_ Summer of 1998 _

It’d taken a hundred of his well earned dollars to drive out here. Rami had to endure the heat since Huntsville, with a thump up in the thick air and a prominent frown against the brightness, waiting—he’d waited for so damn long—for someone with a right mind to drive past and think him worthy of a ride. All dependant on his image, on how he held himself to the world, how clean, sane he looks. They wouldn’t even know where to begin.

A seemingly lost California boy. He was far from the valley now, real far; there was no more turning back. With only one stained rucksack slung across his good shoulder, the one not injured from days of travelling. Earlier, he’d tried to lift a fallen tree off the road, another bigger dude had been helping him with it but thought it funny to suddenly drop the weight into Rami’s arms all at once. There’d only been a few minutes of laughter before Rami got pissed. 

He’d wanted to stay away from hitchhiking from then on but supposed that plan would go to shit real quick—for a faded truck pulled up beside him within the first two hours of standing around. That’s when the hundred bucks went down the drain, realistically it went into the denim pocket of the redneck who had scowled whenever Rami tried to reach for his cigarettes (bad habits die hard).

_His,_ the ones he owned—the truck had already smelt like smoke the moment he pressed his sore ass down onto the old leather seat coverings—yet he couldn’t even take the buzz of anxiety off through nicotine.  Denied it.

Now, Rami wasn’t even sure if it was worth the trouble.

The air was much thicker than when in Huntsville, almost 4000 miles between them and eight hours apart (since he’d first met the redneck and now), and the heat was agonisingly worse. More so than he’d imagined back home in L.A. when the two of them were still planning the trip by paper. Rami had found letters faster than texting—Joe never knew where his goddamn cell was. Ironic in their day and age.

It was hot as all hell in Mobile.'

“Too much.” he uttered between delayed breaths.

“Too much contact? Want me to move off?” Joe asked frantically from beside him. The bed they were sharing was almost too small for both of them; they made it work.

Rami didn’t want him to move away, he wanted his presence physically; helped him calm his forever churning mind, but he was just about drowning in sweat. There was no other option.

“A bit, not too far though—it’s just that it’s so bloody hot.”

Joe shuffled over an inch, Rami wasn’t sure if that made him feel any better, and looked up at him with his molasses brown eyes. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. We never usually go here when it’s gonna be this hot.” 

Rami understood that he was referring to his family, this cabin had been a gift from his father’s dance academy; which made it lucky that only he and Rami were allowed to be staying here, despite both being in their early twenties and mature enough to venture off by themselves. Nevertheless, this location was to be valued and respected, Rami reminded himself to do just that. 

“I like the heat,” he admitted with a hand on his bare stomach, “It’s just hard to enjoy when we’re locked up in a wooden fortress. It never gets any cooler.” he was over exaggerating a tad bit, the cabin was made of wood and was boiling inside, but it was no where near a fortress. It was smaller than Rami’s house back in Sherman Oaks (still living with his parents—work was hard). 

Joe smiled at that, “Yeah well, we can go out and swim later. There’s a good spot we used to go to as kids.”

Rami turned his head back to Joe, his eyes had preciously been focused on the beads of sweat he could feel tracing down the back’s of his thighs; onto what he could only imagine was an expensive mattress. It had been ripped bare with only the sheet remaining. The two of them, both in boxers, lay on top of it—trying their best to imagine that it’s not anywhere near as hot as it really is.

“I’d really like that.”

“Did you bring your swimmers?”

Rami grinned at his innocence, “What for?” he had no intention to be wearing any clothing whilst hopping into water with Joe.

That drew a guttural laugh from the man beside him, who spat it out towards the criss-cross ceiling. Rami suddenly remembered how much he’d missed the sound of it over their months apart. New York was just too far away for Rami, and he had family in Huntsville where he could easily catch a ride to Mobile and meet Joe there; which is what they’d been doing for almost two years now. 

He wanted more of that sound.

“Makes me wonder why I’d thought to bring mine in the first place.” Joe said quietly, amused.

Rami wanted desperately to scoot closer to him, to gather Joe up in his arms and memorise the feeling of having him so near. But it was near impossible to do so, Rami already felt as if he was suffocating in the humidity of being inside, he couldn’t handle having someone else’s sweat dripping all over him too; reminding him of the inescapable heat. 

Rami reached out a hand and felt relief when it landed over Joe’s left hip, noticeably sharp under the softness of his creamy skin. He caressed it with his calloused palm, hoping that the touch wasn’t too much for Joe—who smiled gently and attempted to nuzzle his way towards Rami’s cheek but found that their shoulders were too broad for his neck to reach.

“Relax,” he said in a hushed tone.

Joe shifted back, letting his entire body go pliant under Rami’s single hand. It was the best opportunity they’d had to be together in days, utterly alone and secluded in a far away cabin in the middle of nowhere Mobile, yet the sun was getting the best of them.

“I am.” he hummed back, “I would be—if you’d let me touch you.” 

There was a momentary spike of guilt in his belly, “I know and I would, honestly, I’m just burning up real bad. Later tonight I’ll give you the time of your life, I swear it.” he returned the words with a devilish grin — oh, he had plans.

They spend another half hour on the dipped bed, frying slowly as the cabin’s temperature builds and builds; never once letting a cloud of cool air inside. It felt as if they were fogging it up even more, hot breaths mingling with the already steaming air above their heads, the backs of their knees wet with sweat despite being pressed against the soggy mattress below. It didn’t take long before Rami couldn’t take it anymore.

His hand tightened on Joe’s now-moist hip bone, “Joe, we gotta go. I’m being cooked from the inside-fucking-out.” 

Rami sat up first, took one peek to his right and drank in the sight immediately. Skin tinted pink, warm and inviting, ravishingly soft and all _his._ Joe looked as if he’d been overcome by heatstroke, his fiery hair was mattered damply to his forehead, his cheeks violently flushed and dark eyes squinting up towards Rami—as if the heat was burning them.

“Up you get, darl.” he pulled at a boney wrist, “What did you say that place was called?”

“Dead Water Creek. We’ll borrow my brother’s car.”

“Sorry? Did you say ‘Dead Water’? What’s that all about?” Rami craned his neck forwards in surprise and watched intently as Joe began to smile smugly. Rami could tell that he was still drained from the heat, he was sleepy and slow—and he never wanted it to end.

“Cops found a body floating ‘round there a few years ago. We weren’t in Mobile when the whole thing went down, but were told it was real gruesome. Three guys were bashed with iron trivets—you know, from the kitchen—all three! Since then everyone’s just called it Dead Water.”

Joe was drawling, his words came out lazily with prolonged vowels. Rami was stunned out of words. 

“It’s safe now, Rams. No more bodies.” Joe leant froward and pressed his sweet lips to Rami’s burning forehead; they seared an invisible mark on his skin. “Still coming with?”

After a moment of realising, again, just how hot he is and why he’d needed to escape in the first place, “Yes.”

Ten minutes later, they’d managed to pack two towels, some bread and cheese and Joe’s Super 8 camcorder into Rami’s old rucksack (they’d emptied out all his belongings onto the polished floor). Joe had insisted on bringing the camera, “You’ll want the memories when we’re both eighty and in a home,” to which Rami had responded “Yeah and they’ll all be in my damn head, not that bulky, plastic piece of shit.” and received one loud snort and a punch to the shoulder. It’s funny he should say that, for he was hoping most of his adulthood would be caught on film anyhow. 

Joe drove. There wasn’t a chance in the world he’d let Rami drive the old thing anyway, the muffler had been broken for months now and just about scared away every living thing within a seven mile radius—but it still belonged to the Mazzello’s and therefore Rami was to keep his hands off. Fair call.

Rami was allowed to smoke this time, and even felt an element of surprise when Joe accepted his offering for a cigarette too. They hadn’t always been this way, Joe hadn’t always looked at Rami with soft, pleading eyes—all affectionate and willing. They used to fight, bite at each other and yell horrid things through small speakers with all of their dependance on the battery life of their newly bought piece of technology. 

Joe and Rami had taught each other things in attempt to calm their relationship; whether at the time it was platonic or not. Through blood noses and broken fingers, they’d given a piece of themselves to the other and silently declared peace.

Rami may be a smaller man, Joe led when it came to mass, but he sure as hell can keep up a fight. He had claws like a cat and a venomous snarl that Joe knew was more dangerous than any of his words. In the end, Rami was the one to beg for Joe’s warmth and arms around him at night, he was a complete softie at heart.

1998 was a good year for them. They acted as one—entirely different but still content with spending their efforts on one another. 

Joe kept his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on Rami’s knee. It was a sign of comfort, of belonging and Rami liked it. He enjoyed being someones focal point, something they’d inevitably zone in on when situations became too hazy for anything else. He only hoped that Joe believed him when Rami admitted the same back.

“We’ll have to walk from here. It’s about ninety metres, so not too far. Nothing we can’t handle.”

It took them a number of minutes to make it down to the water. Rami took a seat on a rock by the fast moving water, “You think we should travel downstream a bit to a more calmer area?” he wasn’t too keen on being swept away in any hidden currents.

“This will be fine, we’ll move downstream naturally.” Joe didn’t seem to sense Rami’s anxiety, he began unbuttoning his polo shirt accordingly. Rami followed suit, stripping everything off until he was bare to the bone. Stark naked and ready to scrub off a days worth of grime and filth.

Rami dipped his toes in first, the one’s he hadn’t been able to feel since twelve that afternoon—the heat had taken over his entire body like a virus. He watched attentively as Joe organised his camcorder, ejected the last cartridge and replaced it with a blank tape, then he saw a red light being emitted from below the viewfinder. 

“Recording already?” he asked from the bay, wonderingly distantly if the camera would be able to pick up the small upturn of his lips from where Joe was standing. 

He nodded instead of answering directly, “Smile for me!” 

There was no way he couldn’t.

Rami waved after a moment of feeling pure devotion towards the redheaded man before him. He’d given up his entire summer for this moment, instead of working on student sets or pressuring more agencies to take a lot at his resume, he’d spent his savings to hitchhike his way to this young man; all red lips stretching around wide grins and earth coloured eyes. 

A few weeks in absolute bliss; paradise found in the middle of boiling hot Mobile with someone who didn’t represent Alabama in any way possible.

There wasn’t a single thought in the entirely of Rami’s mind that alarmed him to the fact that he was naked and on camera. He placed himself in Joe’s hands with trust.

“Are you going to come in or what? I’m getting bored over here.” he raised his voice over the noise of water rushing around moss covered rocks; dangerous in their own way. A real slipping hazard, Rami knew from experience. 

“Are not.” 

Joe wobbled forwards with the camcorder’s strap still wrapped snug around his hand, he was planning on bringing it in. Rami figured he’d have to prove his theory of safety wrong by diving in to the centre of the chaos. The drag of water pulled him down right away, causing him to arch his back stiffly in attempt to dodge the protruding rocks from beneath the surface. He could hear a water-warped version of Joe’s laughter from above, a burst of pride and happiness found its way to his chest despite his main priority being to breathe.

Rami found his way to the top and laughed in delight when he was finally floating on his back, staring up at the blue sky, the corners of his vision littered with tree leaves. 

“You better hurry up and join me, I’m just about speeding away.” he said as loudly as he dared, meaning for it to reach Joe but unable to confirm its destination due to the water running past his earlobes. 

He did just that. Joe slipped in with pale thighs and the faintest sprinkle of coppery chest hair—like a real gentlemen. They splashed around together, creating artificial waves with their upper arms and kicking ferociously until their calfs cramped. Rami’s initial fear of drowning faded quickly, it faded with the unspoken protection that Joe offered to him through acts. There wasn’t any need to worry or fear anymore, and not for that damn 1996 camcorder—Joe had taken the hint and decided to leave it by the rocks along with their lunch. 

Rami considered for a moment what he’d have done if it had gotten damaged, if he’d pay for another immediately as an apology gift, or if he’d save it for his birthday as a romantic gesture; Valentine’s maybe (there wasn’t any need to think about it any longer, it was perfectly safe).

The two kept at it until they’d swum themselves starving, then both agreed simultaneously to get out and enjoy lunch. 

“How’s work going?” Joe asked, two fingers deep into the pickle jaw Rami had nicked quickly before they’d left. Rami nodded before swallowing down the awfully dry (and painful) bread.

“Not too bad. Only three call backs so far.”

“That’s really good for a beginner—“

Rami glanced up from his meal, “It’s been a year and a half.”

Joe tried not to let his facial features betray him, Rami could tell by the way they were all suddenly taut. Was he offended by Rami’s negativity or was it only to do with the way he’d spoken back? Rami didn’t bother to elaborate on the investigation; he turned his chin away and took another bite. Bigger than the last, that way he wouldn’t have to talk for a while.

Joe opened his mouth and started with slow words, “Rams, I mean it, that’s good news.” he placed a shy hand on Rami’s shoulder, his palm warmer than the water had been, “It’s the experience that truly matters, right?”

He almost snorted, “There’s not much experience to be had when all I’m cast in are cheap, shitty student films. They never have faith in me—like I’m just another pathetic extra. I want a real role, Joe. I want to show them my talent.”

“And you will, babe, _you will._ It just takes time, don’t give up now because it’s taken so long. I believe in you Rams, you’re so fucking incredible at what you do. I can’t wait until your agent is being called nonstop because all the top directors want you as lead. It’s gonna happen one day, I know it.”

Rami couldn’t stop let his thin lips from curving into a smile, gentle at that—he was still disappointed in himself. Joe was now rubbing circling into the muscle of his shoulder, kneading with his thin, long fingers and hypnotising calmness into Rami. He leaned into the touch.

“Yeah—if only I had an agent.”

“Patience, babe. Patience.”

Rami looked at Joe fully. Really looked into his dark eyes, convincingly brown but really an odd golden-green colour, and felt himself sucked back into a fantasy world where true love replaced admiration. There was a part of him that truly did only live on for the sake of Joe, feeding off the thought of his reciprocated gratefulness, of having Joe all to himself and being allowed to touch, rub and caress his milky skin whenever he pleased. 

It pushed Rami to keep working, to earn those valuable dollars so that he could take these trips. It didn’t matter that both were aware that the Mazzello’s could easily pay to fly Rami over—whether they supported their rendezvous or not—Rami still worked his ass off with two jobs weekly to pay for his own rent and their getaways. 

Rami could easily quit and focus more on encouraging his acting career to spark up, but he liked staying busy, and figured that Joe found it quite hot that he worked insanely hard for them to be able to fuck in the middle of nowhere every summer. Joe liked to treat him specially during his hours off. It was a win-win.

Rami blinked once before leaning in to meet him, placing his mouth against Joe’s soft lips. They were always so damn red, it went with his naturally autumn hair. They fought dry for a moment before Joe understood that Rami needed this; needed to be in control during these minutes, needed to know that Joe was entirely his. Joe let his face by pushed and moulded by Rami’s small hands, he gripped tightly to the back of his head, threaded his fingers through the short red hair, with his thumbs tickling the curves of Joe’s pink-tinted ears.

Joe’s nose was hot against his cheek, it was electrifying for Rami to feel the physical reaction he’d caused on his man. Burning skin, knitted eyebrows in high concentration of making an impression; it was all Joe attempting to live up to his expectations—without knowing that they didn’t exist, all Rami wanted was _him._

Joe hummed around Rami’s tongue, around the wet, slick noises they were making with their own mouths. He still had his hand kneading tightly into Rami’s shoulder, the other was gripping his own thigh; anxious. He’d been waiting for this, not the kiss, but the act in public. They hadn’t done it in months, tested the social boundaries—what they could get away with as a same-sex couple.

He tasted like white bread and American cheese, a hint of murky lake water. A loud moan.

“Slow down there cowboy,” Rami smirked once Joe had allowed them both to catch their breaths, he was panting harder than Rami, “You’re gonna get exactly what you want.”

“Oh— _please.”_ Joe dived in again, capturing Rami’s puffy upper lip with his teeth and pulled idly, “Been waiting so long.” 

Rami’s face followed along with Joe’s teeth, allowing himself to be dragged an inch closer while Joe secured his hold on his bare shoulders by wrapping his wrists around the back of his neck; nails scratching teasingly at the prickly hairs at his nape. He was an absolute devil in bed, Rami knew, he couldn’t wait to get back. Fuck the heat, Rami wasn’t hot and bothered by _that_ anymore.

“Let’s go,” Rami mumbled, fearful that his words were being lost in the cavity of Joe’s mouth, “I think it’s bedtime.”

Joe’s muffled agreement followed shortly.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> give me some love, i wasted a lot of my time on this and i still hate it  
> abajajaja


End file.
